


31

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baking, Eventual Johnlock, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Sherlock, Pretend Date, Sex Toys, Sherlock dates another man, There is no "Final Problem"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-01-10 10:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: Everyone in Sherlock's life is moving on so he decides it is time to put aside his pining for John and date someone else. Will it be that easy? (Spoiler...no it won't).Written for AtlinMerrick's 31 days of porn challenge. I will be attempting a chapter for each prompt, hopefully making this into a coherent story. Rated explicit for later chapters, but so far this is the least porny porn challenge entry you will ever find.





	1. Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtlinMerrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/gifts).



> Sorry for the long note.
> 
> So, the basis for this whole story is going to be that TFP never happened, and John's therapist was just a therapist who didn't shoot him. 
> 
> Instead Moriarty’s twin James emerged from the shadows (because sometimes it really is twins). After a game of cat and mouse and a glorious chase across London Sherlock and John catch him and he goes to prison. During the course of the case they re-establish their friendship and John apologises for hurting Sherlock and blaming him for Mary’s death. He promises to increase his therapy sessions and maybe go to anger management classes as well.
> 
> In capturing Moriarty they also release a kidnap victim that he was holding to secure his father’s cooperation in a smuggling racket. The father is a member of a European Royal family and he gives Sherlock and John a massive reward such that John can afford to pay for renovations to 221C and move in with Rosie and to not work again until Rosie goes to school. He does however do a few hours at Sarah's clinic occasionally to help out when other doctors are off and to keep in practice.

**Sherlock's p.o.v.**

Sherlock sits in his armchair staring at the fire and twirling a business card between his fingers. He smiles as he hears Rosie downstairs giggling and John's voice rumbling in response, his words lost in the transfer of sound up from the basement flat but the affection for his daughter clear in the tone. 

Moving his attention away he hears a low mechanical humming sound, Mrs Hudson vacuuming in preparation for a visit from Mr Allen this evening, a semi-retired lawyer who is recently divorced through no fault of his own, seems to be only a little dull, and makes Mrs Hudson smile. A brief attempt at stalking and looming over him with a few thinly veiled threats about treating her well had been met with the vague incomprehension of someone for whom the thought of doing anything else had never occurred.

He pauses in spinning the card to read it again, as if he hadn't memorised it only seconds after it was handed to him. He resumes his fiddling and moves his thoughts on.

John is, if not happy, at least content with his life as a single father, and when he is ready to move on the lure of a small (and very cute) child is bound to help him attract female attention, and Mrs Hudson has finally found someone she can hopefully live out her retirement with.

Then there is Molly, she seems, at last, to be over her infatuation with him and to be moving on. Not like before with Tom, Sherlock shudders at the memory, but properly with.... oh, the name isn't important, the new pathologist just moved to London from Cardiff. He looks nothing like Sherlock, speaks with a Welsh accent and plays football on the weekends, and Sherlock cannot recall ever seeing Molly happier.

George of course is insisting on dating that woman from forensics, all wrong for him, and it won't last, but the regular sex is doing wonders for his mood, and maybe if he looks a bit more cheerful Sherlock can manage to get the girl from the coffee shop downstairs interested in him when the inevitable breakup occurs. He has already had to scare off a couple of potential suitors from her to keep her available. Then that will be Geoffrey all set up too.

The fire crackles and Sherlock's eyes come into focus for a moment, then he sinks back into introspection.

Even Mycroft seems to be making efforts recently to be with somebody. The appallingly boring Lady Smallwood, but then Mycroft is also incredibly boring so perhaps they belong together. He can't begin to fathom how that relationship will work, but on this occasion he is happy to leave that particular train of thought for his brother to explore and spares himself the horror of contemplating certain...activities that Mycroft might want to enjoy with his new companion.

Everyone is moving on, everyone is happy. They all seem to still want him in their lives and he is happy for them, but...it isn't enough. Ever since the ‘plane Sherlock has been ready to admit that he wants someone for his own, and since the hospital he has realised that his continued existence on the earth is, finally, something that he wants for himself not just something to endure. The someone that he wants is...not available, or not to him anyway, what with Sherlock having the wrong parts and all, and without realising it Sherlock has been waiting for that person to change their opinion about the presence of an extra penis in their bed for over half a decade. He can't wait anymore.

He reads the card again, Dr Robert Wainwright, lecturer in history at Royal Holloway University. Recent suspect (briefly) in the theft of some rare documents from The Museum of London. He is tall and well built, obviously spends time at the gym, a few years younger than Sherlock, well read, enjoys classical music and although he teaches several areas of history his main area of interest is the history of crime, specifically Jack the Ripper and other historical serial killers. Dr Robert Wainwright who had Invited Sherlock to dinner and when turned down had given Sherlock his card and said to call him if he changed his mind. A small smile tugs the corners of his lips, Robert (will he be Rob? Bob?...no, not Bob) had enjoyed the way Sherlock had deduced him, had laughed when he had insulted Anderson and had touched Sherlock’s arm in a way that had made him feel warm inside. It is time. 

He pulls his phone from his pocket and types a quick text, not giving himself time to change his mind.

**Robert, I would love to go to dinner. When would be convenient? Sherlock Holmes.**

He stares at the fire, almost holding his breath in anticipation. It is only a minute before the reply comes.

**That is wonderful news. Tomorrow night? I’ll book somewhere and pick you up at 7?**

Sherlock looks around the room nervously, feeling like he is doing something wrong and could be caught out any second. A silly feeling he knows, people go on dates every day, so he squashes it down to send a reply.

**I’ll look forward to it.**

~~~~

The message is barely sent when a new worry appears. If he is to go on a date, what should he do? How should he act? What should he wear? He can feel this beginning to spiral and in the past he may have given up this whole relationship business then and there as not being worth it, but not now, he needs this. 

Sherlock rises from his chair and stretches the muscles that protest at being used after so long in one position. He goes down to John's door and hesitates, John is his best friend, he can help, and any awkwardness caused by Sherlock only just deciding to move on from him is easily managed due to the fact that John was never aware that Sherlock had been pining for him in the first place. 

Sherlock opens the door and goes straight in to the basement flat, the new windows at ceiling height and pale paintwork manage to make the space light and airy, and the child friendly bright furnishings make it seem homely. John is on the sofa with Rosie sleeping on top of him and Tellytubbies playing on the TV.

“Oh thank God, rescue me, if I have to hear about Tubby Custard one more time I think I’ll scream.”

Sherlock chuckles quietly, mindful of the sleeping child, fetches the remote control from the far side of the room, and passes it to John who promptly shuts the TV off.

“I couldn't get her to have her nap, she’s normally so good but today..” he shakes his head, “she was fine when I had her out here but as soon as I tried to put her in her cot she just screamed. I had to play with her until she just crashed out on top of me and I daren't move.”

Sherlock can't help but smile at John’s exasperation. “She is probably nearly ready to drop the second nap, from my reading, if she continues being difficult it might be worth trying to keep her awake until after dinner.”

John stretches as best he can without disturbing his daughter and nods his agreement. “I might have to try that, she has been harder to put down at night recently as well.”

“You can call me you know, if you need help, that is why you moved back to Baker Street. I don't mind, I could try playing for her, or just give you a break.”

John smiles gratefully “Thanks, I guess I just got it in my head I should be coping alone but... if you don't mind.”

“Of course not.”

“Great. Thanks. I, I’d offer you tea but..” John gestures at the sleeping form draped over his chest helplessly .

“I'll make it.” Sherlock disappears into the kitchen and reappears a few minutes later with two cups of tea, passing John’s over very carefully so as not to spill any on Rosie. He sits in an armchair and clears his throat.

John looks at him “Sorry, I’ve just been talking about me. Did you want something?”

“I, um, yes. I need your help with something.”

John looks excited suddenly “A case? I can drop Rosie off with Mrs Hudson if you need me.”

Sherlock shakes his head “No, sorry, nothing like that, and Mrs Hudson has company coming this evening anyway. I...well, I think I have a date and...I’m not sure what to do.”

“A date?”

“Yes. Robert Wainwright from that case with the missing letters. He asked and I said yes.”

John looks stunned. He blinks a few times , takes a deep breath.

“This is a real date? Not you shamming to get information or something?”

“No. He seems nice and now that everyone else is moving on with their lives I thought maybe I should do the same.”

John nods slowly. “Ok. So, what’s the problem?”

Sherlock looks a little lost as he confesses “I’ve never been on a real date before. I don't know what to wear, how to act...I don't know how to do this.”

John smiles at him. “Ok. As to what to wear, you always look amazing, apart from when you've been rooting around rubbish bins or wearing one of your ‘undercover as a homeless person’ outfits, so I don't think you need to worry about that. Any of your suits will do.”

Sherlock smiles weakly at him, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach caused by John telling him he looks amazing.

“But how should I act? What do I do?”

“Just be yourself, he might as well know what he’s getting into from the start. If you spend the first few dates shamming at being ‘normal’ then he’s going to be a bit shocked when he sees the real you.”

Sherlock’s face falls and he bites his lip. 

“Maybe this was a mistake. I should cancel.”

“No, no. Don’t. I just meant that you are unique. I like it..you...the way you are.” John blurts out, then composes himself. “But some people don't, there is no point dating him if you are going to trick him into thinking you are someone else, unless you are planning on keeping up the act for as long as you are together.”

Sherlock nods, “I suppose so. I’m still nervous though.”

John looks a little conflicted but eventually says “How about we go on a practice date. When this monkey wakes up we can go to Angelo's for an early dinner, but pretend that it is a date.”

“What about Rosie?”

“She loves Angelo's spaghetti. She can come too.”

“I don't think there will be any infants there tomorrow night.” Sherlock says doubtfully.

“Use your imagination. She’ll be so busy covering herself in food you'll hardly know she’s there.”

Sherlock chuckles at the sleeping child, the mess she can get into with spaghetti is legendary. “Ok, when should we go?”

“About 4? We should be back in time to put her to bed at a reasonable hour then.”

~~~~

An hour and a half later Sherlock and John leave 221, John dressed smartly pushing an excited Rosie in her buggy and Sherlock trying to convince himself that this is not a very very bad idea.

When they arrive at Angelo’s the problem of having a child at their pretend date is swiftly solved by Angelo sweeping Rosie away upstairs so that his wife can feed her while Sherlock and John enjoy their date. Rosie squeals with delight as she is taken away, no doubt anticipating the cake and sweets that she always gets when she visits. The candle at their table is lit and Angelo smiles at them fondly.

Sherlock sits nervously fiddling with his menu. Dinner with John is normally easy, they could talk for hours or just eat in companionable silence and either way Sherlock would feel at ease, but this isn’t a normal dinner, a date, he is on a date with John. He needs to pretend to be romantically interested, but he is, so he needs to pretend to be pretending to be romantically interested in John. His head snaps up when he hears John calling his name in a tone that suggests he has repeated himself several times.

“Ah, good, I have your attention. First thing, on your date try not to zone out like that, it'll make him think you aren’t interested.”

Sherlock bites his lip and nods.

“Good, now you should ask me about my day, or my job, or my research. Basically you want to act as if he is the most interesting thing in the world and that you want to learn all about him.”

“But I know what his job is, I'll be able to deduce most things about his day, and I read his latest paper during the case.”

John scrubs at his face, “Ok, but you won't know every detail. You are bound to miss things, remember Harry?”

Sherlock blushes a little at the memory of his mistake, “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“If you want this to work you have to show him you are interested, and hopefully he will be interested in hearing about you as well. Now, let's get started.”

Sherlock nods and takes a deep breath, time to begin. “I read your latest paper on Burke and Hare, I must say I completely disagree with your conclusion.”

John barks a laugh, diners at nearby tables turn and look at them, “I'm not going to say you can't disagree with him, but maybe don’t use that as an opener.

Sherlock gives a shaky nod. Things are so easy with John, he can say what he thinks and John understands that whatever comes out of his mouth doesn’t lessen the friendship that they have. This date though, he has to be himself, but watch what he says. He has to pretend he doesn’t know what Robert has been doing all day, and actually try to look interested when given all the details. Deep breath, try again.

“I read your latest paper, would you care to elaborate?”

John smiles proudly at him and Sherlock ignores the flutter in his chest. “Ok, we're going to have to pretend I'm saying something really clever now, just like your date will. Then I'll assume he would ask you for your opinion. When he does, try not to lecture him, keep it short, to the point, he can ask more questions if he wants.”

Sherlock pouts, John always let's him talk as long as he wants, well mostly, dating is looking increasingly like a bad idea, but he sharpens his resolve. There is nothing else to be done. The decision is made, now to make the best of it.

“Well I always thought Burke and Hare were given too much credit......”

~~~~

An hour and a half later they walk back to the flat with John pushing a very sleepy and suspiciously sticky Rosie in her buggy. Sherlock looks over at them and smiles. 

After the awkward start the “date” had gone well. Having a bit of time just for the two of them had been lovely, a few glasses of wine made John much less strict about bringing up dating rules and Sherlock had enjoyed himself much more. Unfortunately as he feared it had also brought his feelings for John to the fore. 

Sherlock sighs and covers it with a yawn, he can't ruin what he has, John, Rosie and Mrs Hudson are his family and he can't let himself ruin it with inappropriate feelings. He needs to make this work with Robert for the sake of keeping his relationship with John. He gives John another smile then lapses into silence, putting his hand in his pocket so that it will be physically unable to reach out and try to take John's hand.

‘This will be fine.’ he tells himself, ‘This is going to be fine.’


	2. Lactating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock returns home after his first date with Robert. It did not go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if this is medically plausible, lets just go with it.

**John's p.o.v.**

 

John has just settled Rosie for the night and slumped into his armchair when Sherlock bursts into his flat with his coat firmly wrapped around himself.

 

John frowns up at him “Isn't it your date tonight? You’re back very early.”

 

Sherlock scowls at him and throws himself onto the sofa.

 

“Ah, it didn’t go well?” John try's to keep the edge of glee out of his voice as he says this. Ever since their “practice” date the previous day he has been finding it increasingly hard to feel happy about his friend’s new found interest in dating.

 

Sherlock just closes his eyes and makes a sad rumbling groaning sound in his throat.

 

“What happened?” John finds it a little easier to keep his tone neutral, even if he doesn't want Sherlock dating anyone else he still doesn't like to see him so miserable.

 

Finding his voice Sherlock replies “Do you remember the case last week. The victim was a woman who had induced lactation to nurse her adoptive daughter?”

 

“Of course I do, what has that got to do with anything?”

 

“I was interested in the hormones she was using, I was carrying out some experiments with prolactin and oxytocin earlier before I got ready. I accidentally ....might have ...drunk a very concentrated solution of the hormones.”

 

“Oh God.” John says covering his face with his hands.

 

“Look at me!” Sherlock demands peeling his coat away to reveal a shirt with two large wet patches on the front. “I started producing milk just as they brought the starters out. There seems to be no stopping it.”

 

John tries to cover his giggles, he really does, but the indignant look on Sherlock’s face is too much. Between gasps John manages to ask “What did Robert say?”

 

“He was concerned, of course. When I explained he said I should come home, I tried to say we could continue but he insisted.” Sherlock looks so sad that John’s giggles very quickly abate.

 

“It's probably for the best. You are leaking quite a lot, best not do that in public. Did he rearrange?”

 

“He said he would text me. Do you think he will?”

 

John leans over and pats Sherlock’s knee in what he hopes is a comforting manner, and tries very hard not to let his hand do any of the lingering that it seems so keen to do. “I think he will, but if he doesn't, if he’s going to be put off by something like this, then honestly he's probably not the man for you.”

 

Sherlock nods, and undoes the buttons on his shirt. He pulls it off and swipes it over his chest in an effort to clean up the wetness seeping from his nipple's. He leans back on the sofa and John feels his mouth go a little dry. The large expanse of pale flesh spread out in front of him is so very inviting, and the fact that Sherlock's chest is so swollen that it looks like he has a pair of (very small) breasts is not helping. John has always liked both men and women, but he has always had a weakness for boobs, just something about them, so the combination of this man with added...chest, is proving hard to resist.

 

Rosie begins to cry from her room and John says “Damn, she’s supposed to be down for the night. I’ll have to give her more milk, it should send her right off.”

 

“Maybe I could feed her?” Sherlock jokes gesturing to his front which is once again covered in milk.

 

“No. Given your diet you'll be lucky if there is any nutrition at all in that milk.” John shoots back cheekily as he goes to fetch his daughter. He feels slightly worried that nutritional concerns aside he doesn't find the thought of Sherlock feeding Rosie like that more disturbing.

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes, but John can see from the way his lips twitch that he isn’t really offended.

 

A swift bottle for Rosie and a highly abridge telling of the Three Billy Goats Gruff and she is asleep, hopefully for the night. John returns to his lounge to find Sherlock still on the sofa. The milk seems to have slowed to an occasional drop and Sherlock is prodding his “breasts” curiously.

 

“Feeling better then?” John teases.

 

Sherlock looks up with, maybe a hint of embarrassment? “These are really quite sore, do you think all nursing mothers experience this?”

 

John shakes his head fondly. “After some initial discomfort in the first week or so they shouldn’t have significant pain unless something has gone wrong, let’s just hope you don’t come down with a case of mastitis. Now, come on you,” John rests a hand on his shoulder, then regrets it immensely when he feels the warm naked flesh and realises that now he is going to have to force himself to let go again, “I know you haven’t eaten. I’ll get fish and chips while you clean yourself up.”

 

“Not hungry.” Sherlock replies grumpily.

 

John lets go with a sigh, hoping that it will be mistaken for frustration rather than disappointment, “Lunatic. You missed dinner and you’ve been leaking calories all over yourself. You are eating.”

 

“Fine, but I want extra vinegar.”

 

“You always want extra vinegar. Take the monitor up so you can listen for Rosie while I’m out.”

 

Sherlock nods and without another word unfolds himself from the sofa, pulls his soaking shirt back on and disappears upstairs with the baby monitor.

 

John grabs his coat, wallet and keys and heads out in search of sustenance for his....whatever Sherlock is to him. He ignores the voice inside insisting this is like a date, a second date in fact after the meal at Angelo’s the night before. Sherlock was _on_ a date, with Robert, which then in typical Sherlock style went horribly wrong. This is just a friend consoling another friend after a disastrous evening. That’s all. As he walks John gives himself a stern lecture on getting used to that fact and not betraying himself to Sherlock. How can he compete with a professor in historical crime for goodness sake? If Sherlock saw him as anything other than a friend he would have said something by now, taken back his rejection that first night. Instead it is only now that Robert has come along that Sherlock has shown any inclination to dating and relationships.

 

Decision made and warm bag of food in hand John walks back to the flat. A quick dinner, brief and very professional medical examination and he will pack Sherlock off to bed, and then, maybe in the privacy of his own bed afterwards he will allow himself to think a little more of the miles of warm skin and imagine how good it would feel to kiss, caress, and explore that body that houses the most extraordinary man he will ever meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame Atlin, she posted the prompt list.


	3. Unusual Sex Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has left Sherlock a gift, things happen :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now the porn challenge has some porn, yay!

Sherlock's pov

 

Sherlock closes the door to his flat and leans against it. He has just returned from his second date with Robert, or first depending on if you count their aborted dinner date the previous week. They have been to a concert, the Philharmonic performing at the Royal Festival Hall. Robert had seemingly totally forgiven him for the milk incident and the concert had been excellent.

 

He closes his eyes to remember the way Robert had sat so close to him in the theatre, their thighs touching, the warmth of another human deigning to spend time with him. Then at the bar afterwards they had a perfectly pleasant conversation, Robert had laughed when Sherlock told him some of the ridiculous mistakes Lestrade’s team had made this week, and they had spent a surprisingly long time discussing the merits of the various orchestra members.

 

That is one thing that John would never do with him, his knowledge of classical music is deplorable, but at the thought Sherlock can feel nothing but fond exasperation at John's reluctance to learn about it.

 

He had tried to catch himself when he found he was talking about Rosie and her ever growing vocabulary, or how she is attempting to master the art of running, but he had perhaps spent a little too long on that topic.

 

Deciding that he should stop dissecting the details of the date Sherlock goes to the kitchen to make tea and frowns at the sight that greets him. Moving closer he sees that it is a penguin on the kitchen table, a plush penguin that on closer inspection appears to be a glove puppet.

 

There is a handwritten note next to it :

 

***Hi, took Rosie to the funfair today. I won this on the shoot a duck stall, but the eyes look like a choking hazard for Rosie so thought I'd give it to you. I'm assuming you can be trusted not to chew on it until the eyes fall off.**

**Anyway, I remembered how much you like penguins so here you go.**

**See you tomorrow.**

**John***

 

Sherlock rolls his eyes. He has never had any particular love of penguins. The misunderstanding in question came from John discovering Sherlock's unfortunate inability to say the work ‘penguin’. When he found out it made John laugh, and Sherlock, being addicted to the sound of John laughing, had found ways to mention penguins on every available opportunity ever since.

 

A smile tugs his lips as he fills the kettle and gets a mug out. As the tea is steeping he runs a finger over the fur of the toy, a part of his brain helpfully supplying that penguins, even baby penguins, do not have fur.

 

His date forgotten Sherlock starts to think about John with a gun, shooting a gun, hitting his target. He wishes that he had been there. After the incident in the morgue John gave his gun to Mycroft for safekeeping, and had vowed not to touch a weapon again until he had completed his anger management course and was completely satisfied that it was safe. Ridiculous in Sherlock's eyes. John is always safe, that incident had been an aberration following the most intense period of stress and provocation that anyone could ever expect to face. Sherlock himself had been about to attack someone, admittedly a serial killer, but still, with a scalpel, so it isn’t as if he is blameless.

 

Anyway, the point is that John no longer has his gun, and one of Sherlock's absolute favourite things is seeing his John aiming and firing a gun. He looks powerful, in charge, in those instances, and he has missed it.

 

While contemplating the vision that John must have presented today he moves on autopilot, making his tea and drinking it at the table. By the time his cup has been drained he is well and truly immersed in the fantasy. Arousal is building deep inside and he absentmindedly palms his cock through his trousers.

 

Abandoning the tea cup he picks up the penguin and hurries to his bedroom. He places it reverently on his pillow and sheds his clothes quickly.

 

He lies on the bed and hisses at the first touch to the heated flesh of his cock. He throws his head back with his eyes shut tight, but they snap back open in shock when his cheek brushes against the soft toy. The gift from John. John. John was thinking of him. At least some part of John keeps Sherlock in mind even when they are apart, and isn’t that love? Just a little thread of love that John must feel for him, not enough, but it is there and this present is proof of that. Forgetting his cock for a moment Sherlock strokes the soft fur, and then a thought at first nebulous, and slowly solidifying in his mind. He slips a hand inside the puppet and then wraps that hand, and by extension this evidence of John’s regard for him, around his cock and strokes.

 

The feeling is...unusual. Soft fur almost tickling, too dry, a little too rough, but the slight discomfort is far outweighed by the visions of John in his mind. John in uniform, firing a gun, oh god giving orders and tackling men to the ground. He makes the mistake of glancing down and seeing the plush penguin wrapped around himself, almost as if it were hugging him. Its little face peers up at him and he quickly looks away before the ridiculous sight can ruin the mood. Instead he focuses on the sensations. Friction, up and down as the fabric moves over his skin. As John’s love moves against his skin.

 

He grips harder, moves faster, his other hand clenches in the bedsheets and he comes with a strangled cry.

 

As his breath slows and his mind clears he releases his softening cock and looks with dismay at the soggy penguin, covered with sticky white fluid and one eye half hanging off. A feeling of guilt rises inside his chest, this kind of thing has to stop. He is supposed to be moving on, these feelings are meant to be for Robert now. He promises himself this will be the last time, this has to be the last time. He sets the puppet aside, later he will clean it carefully, sew the eye back on, and then store it away, put it away, just like he is doing with his feelings for John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that happened....leave me a comment if you enjoyed it, or I scarred you for life with that mental image :-)
> 
> Also, following Rosie's bedtime story in the last chapter (The Three Billy Goats Gruff) I was reminded that Chriscalledmesweetie wrote a brilliant Johnlock version: [The Three Holmes-Watsons Gruff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12096009). I highly recommend you check it out.


	4. Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to bake cakes for his date with Robert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on alternating points of view with this fic, but this one just wanted to be from Sherlock's.

Sherlock’s pov

 

A frazzled Sherlock is standing in his kitchen staring with dismay at a tray of burnt cupcakes when John enters the flat. John has no doubt been lured up to investigate the fire alarm blaring from the landing to tell everyone of Sherlock’s failure to cook a basic recipe that they teach to school children. Every work surface is covered in dirty bowls and spoons, and Sherlock has flour in his hair.

“I didn't know you were opening a bakery, what's going on in here?” John teases, but his face drops when Sherlock looks at him with red rimmed eyes. “Hey, no, it's ok. What's wrong?”

“I’m going on a picnic with Robert, our third date. I’ve got all the other food” he gestures at a picnic hamper on the floor, “but I thought I should make some cakes for dessert. I can't even do that right!” he cries angrily picking up the tray of cakes and going to throw them into the bin.

“No! Don’t throw them away.” John moves closer, “I think we can probably salvage these.”

Sherlock slumps into a kitchen chair defeated “I need to get ready to go, I don't have time.”

John pats him on the shoulder “You've been reading women's magazines again haven't you. The advice in those things is useless. Look, you get ready, I’ll go to the shop and buy some cakes, he really won't be expecting home-made, it'll be fine.”

Sherlock smiles at him weakly and gets out of the chair. “Thank you. I’ll just...” he gestures towards the bathroom and John steps aside to let him through.

Once in the bathroom he squeezes his eyes shut to stop the tears that are threatening. He tries to tell himself that it is the cupcakes and disappointing Robert that has him upset, but he knows deep down that he is more upset about John being so happy to help him organise his date with another man. Further proof that John really has no romantic interest in Sherlock. Pushing these feelings down he quickly showers and gets dressed. If John doesn't want him it is all the more reason to make things work with Robert, no matter how hard he has to work to make it happen.

Once ready he finds a box of cakes from a nearby bakery in the middle of the kitchen table. He feels his stomach roil unpleasantly but packs them away in the hamper and heads out for his date.

\---~~~---

Several hours later Sherlock returns home. Robert had kissed him on the doorstep and he is trying to convince himself that it is nerves that made him want to push the man away when their lips touched.

Leaving the hamper in the hallway he goes down to John's flat, hoping to see Rosie before she goes to bed. Inside he finds Mrs Hudson, John and Rosie in the kitchen, bowls of different coloured icing are arranged on the table and icing sugar covers everything. Rosie is standing on a chair being held in place by John while Mrs Hudson helps her put sprinkles onto some wonky looking cupcakes with thick splodges of icing on top. Sherlock can't help smiling when he sees the look of concentration on her little face.

Having put the finishing touches to her creation she turns and sees Sherlock in the doorway.

“Cake!!” she cries triumphantly, and Sherlock just has to go and scoop her up into a hug.

“They look beautiful.” He tells her, then catches John’s eye and looks questioningly at the cakes.

“We had a look at them and realised it was just the top that was burnt.” John says.

Mrs Hudson continues “You did a good job dear, just a couple of minutes too long, that's all. We cut the tops off and Rosie has helped me to ice them.”

“You did a wonderful job.” Sherlock tells the girl in his arms.

“Eat cake!” Rosie demands earning a chuckle from all of the adults.

Sherlock’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, he hands Rosie back to John and fetches his picnic blanket from the hallway. He is actually full from his date, but how can he refuse to eat cake prepared with so much care by the little girl he adores.

A few minutes later they have moved the coffee table to one side and laid the blanket on the floor. Sherlock, John and Rosie sit on the floor with a cupcake each set on one of Rosie's plastic plates. Mrs Hudson is sitting on the sofa next to them due to her hip. 

“Yummy!” Rosie declares solemnly and John and Sherlock both lean in to kiss her forehead, ending up with their lips almost meeting. Sherlock looks into John's eyes so close to his own and pulls away murmuring an apology. 

Sherlock feels a flutter inside that is completely different to how he felt when Robert was just about to kiss him. He forces the feelings aside, they will do nothing but cause him pain. He has to move on, but looking around he doesn't know how he can. 

This feels right. The picnic with Robert had been fine, Robert was nice, they had a fairly interesting conversation, but this is home and comfort and trust and family and love and acceptance. This is being himself and not having to hide parts of himself away. Of course he will always keep the sharper edges of his personality away from Rosie, but that doesn't feel like work, he just naturally feels softer, rounder, when she is near.

He reaches over to wipe icing off of Rosie’s nose and she giggles at him. Looking up at John to see his reaction Sherlock sees a strangely fond look on his face, but John takes another bite of his cake and Sherlock decides that the look must have been aimed at Rosie.

Several cupcakes later when they are all stuffed and Rosie is looking decidedly sleepy Mrs Hudson declares that she has things to do and heads back to her flat.

“You know she just left to get out of tidying up the kitchen don’t you?” Sherlock asks. John shushes him with a giggle and swats him on the arm.

They set Rosie in front of the telly to watch Night garden before bed while they work together to tidy the flat.

“John, you just let your daughter eat cake for dinner, that's not very healthy.”

John smiles at him, “Just this once won’t hurt. How was your date anyway? I didn't have a chance to ask.”

Sherlock turns away so that he doesn't have to look at John, wiping down the table as cover. “It was fine. I think Robert enjoyed the food.”

There is a slightly too long pause before John responds, sounding slightly distracted “Great, that's great.”

Sherlock turns to regard his friend and finds himself blurting out “He kissed me.”

John smiles and replies “Good.” he suddenly walks out of the kitchen, and says over his shoulder “I need to get Rosie to bed.”

Sherlock is a little surprised at John's sudden exit, but Rosie comes first so he can’t fault John for taking care of her, and honestly he hadn’t wanted to discuss the kiss anymore anyway. He wipes down the rest of the surfaces and does all of the washing up. John has still not emerged from Rosie's room, she must be being difficult, although she isn't crying. He needs to think about what has happened today so he leaves a note saying goodbye and goes upstairs to spend some time in his mind palace before bed.


	5. Pet Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, not like that ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the MASSIVE delay. I WILL complete this....eventually.

**John's POV**

 

John walks into his flat carrying bags from the supermarket to be greeted by a most peculiar sight. Rosie is on her hands and knees (not that unusual for a two year old who only got the hang of walking a few months ago) as is Sherlock (much more unusual for a man approaching forty). They have dressing gown cords tied around their waists with a long lose end hanging down behind them and they are both making barking sounds.

The door closes with a clunk behind John and Sherlock snaps his head around, realising for the first time that someone has entered the flat. His eyes go wide and his cheeks red when he sees John, and he chambers to his feet avoiding John's eyes.

 

Rosie crawls over and starts nuzzling John's leg with her head and barking louder, John puts the shopping bags down on the floor and smiles down at her briefly, running his hand over her head as if petting her. He flicks his eyes back up to see Sherlock shuffling his feet and staring at the ground.

 

Sherlock tries to untie the dressing gown cord while he mumbles, "I, um, Rosie wanted to play and, um. You're back now anyway so I'll go and finish, um, upstairs." The knot is too tight, or maybe it is the way Sherlock's fingers are trembling that is making it impossible for him to get the cord loosened, so John steps closer and covers his hand with his own.

 

Sherlock looks so nervous, as if he had been caught doing something unforgivable. John can understand a little embarrassment, but he can't stand to see Sherlock like this.

 

"You don't have to go, stay and have some tea and lunch. Rosie looks like she is missing you down there." John says, indicating his daughter on the floor with a tip of his head. Rosie is now sitting  back on her heels and pouting in a way that looks so familiar it makes John's heart ache, there is only one person she could have learnt that from.

 

Sherlock still looks unsure so John nudges him with his shoulder and says, "Go on, play with her a bit more while I put the shopping away and make some lunch."

 

John doesn't look back until he is in the kitchen and he sees Sherlock slowly sinking back down onto his hands and knees. John smiles to himself as he sets about packing everything away into the fridge and cupboards with a background noise of Rosie's high pitched yips, barks and giggles, and after a few minutes the occasional deeper bark as Sherlock allows himself to join in with the game.

 

When everything is away, the sandwiches are made, and the tea is steeping John comes back out to see what is happening. He leans against the doorframe with a broad grin on his face watching his best friend and daughter play, rolling a ball between them with their noses and then rolling around in the floor together.

 

It takes them several minutes to realise that John is watching but then Rosie comes over to nuzzle John's leg again. Sherlock still looks embarrassed but John nods encouragingly at him and he tentatively comes over and does the same. John is certain that Sherlock hasn't noticed that his extra height has put his head very close to nuzzling more than just John's leg. He holds his breath, struggling to compose himself, the sight of those dark curls so close to his groin is too tantalising, until Sherlock moves to the safer area of the outside of his thigh.

 

 John reaches down and scratches both "dogs" behind the ears and Rosie giggles so happily that he nearly doesn't notice the gorgeous way his fingers sink into Sherlock's hair. He pets them both for a moment but has to force himself to stop. Running his hands over Sherlock's shoulders is all very well, but his fingers are itching to be back in that hair, or to explore his back, or, or, other areas that are being put very prominently in display right now that John is Not looking at.

 

He stands up and announces firmly, "The tea should be ready, and it's time for lunch. If you eat your sandwich Rosie you can have a biscuit afterwards."

 

With the promise of a biscuit the game is quickly forgotten and Rosie rushes to her place at the table to eat.

 

Sherlock climbs back up to his feet and stretches with a grimace. John stifles a chuckle and commiserates, "It's hell on the back isn't it? She had me on the floor the other day, I think we were being fish, or mermaids, I'm not sure. Anyway I had a twinge in my back the whole of the next day."

 

Sherlock gives him a cheeky smile, "That's because you're an old man, I'll be fine momentarily."

 

"Oi!" John elbows him gently in the stomach. "I'm not much older than you."

 

Sherlock opens his mouth to reply, but Rosie stats calling for her food and he dashes into the kitchen to help her up into her highchair. John watches him go and bites his lip to contain a laugh at the "tail" that is still swinging from Sherlock's behind. 

 

John takes a second to remind himself that Sherlock is just a friend, no matter how perfectly he fits into the family, and that he is going out with Robert now anyway, then goes to help with the lunch.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and my laptop still will not connect to the internet, so I had to copy from the laptop and type this into AO3 on my phone. Sorry for any typos.

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt list for this challenge is as follows:
> 
> Pretending  
> Nursing or Lactating  
> Unusual sex toy(s)  
> Food  
> Pet Play  
> Misunderstanding  
> Uniform or Clothing Kink  
> Body Fluids  
> Hot or Cold  
> Spanking  
> Looking After  
> Breeding  
> Somnophilia  
> Daddy Kink / Incest / Age Play  
> Piercings or Jewelry  
> Masturbation  
> Costume or Disguise  
> Exhibitionism  
> Past or Future  
> Frottage  
> Epistolary / Sexting  
> Body Worship  
> Priest or Religion  
> Coitus Interruptus  
> Five Senses  
> Voyeurism  
> Lingerie, heels, dress  
> Worst and Best  
> Begging  
> Accidental Stimulation  
> Laughing
> 
> This will probably be slow to update, some of these may give me some trouble :-)


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